


Lonely Hearts

by lucavale



Category: Persona 3, Persona Series
Genre: F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Late Night Conversations, Late at Night, Quiet, Romance, Sleep Deprivation, Sleepovers, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-26
Updated: 2013-10-26
Packaged: 2017-12-30 13:03:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1018963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucavale/pseuds/lucavale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yukari can't sleep. Mitsuru welcomes her to her bedroom on such evenings. Mutual loneliness opens up a kind of desperation between them, something that compels them to see each other and grow closer every night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lonely Hearts

There were evenings when sleep would refuse to come, and Yukari would stay up until the late hours, tossing and turning in bed, closing her eyes and willing her body to get some rest. She didn’t know when she fell into the habit of doing so, but such nights became frequent and the hours dragging that she just decided to cross the hall and knock on Mitsuru’s door, hoping that she was still awake.

And always, whenever Yukari took her chances, Mitsuru _was_ awake. Yukari didn’t know if it was a coincidence or if Mitsuru just never slept (and she wouldn’t be surprised if that were so), but she never missed to voice her gratitude. For both the room and the coffee that Mitsuru seemed to be brewing constantly in her room.

Yukari was always thankful for the company, and it would be two in the morning when she’d decide to trudge back to her room and bury herself under the covers. Mitsuru always let her go with a smile, and the click of her bedroom door as it closed made her want to go back and stay.

*

The evening visits always happened after the Dark Hour, and Mitsuru appreciated them. She spent all day studying, and all night working. Yukari was the welcome respite between all the paperwork and the schoolwork. Her conversations were the tonic that made her feel more like she was a high school student, and not someone who was overburdened by the world. She just wished that the conversations never ended and the coffee never ran out, because by being with Yukari late at night and talking about many things, Mitsuru started to learn many things about herself.

Somewhere between the knocks and the coffee and the goodnights, she found herself longing and hoping for Yukari’s presence. On evenings like those, just as Yukari crossed the hallway and returned to her room, Mitsuru would close her own door, gaze at everything in her room, and feel the most profound feeling of loneliness.

The loneliness became more pronounced when she lay on her bed and stared at the ceiling. The bed was empty and cold, largely untouched because Mitsuru often elected to sleep on the couch so as to leave the covers of the bed undisturbed. Anyway, it was too big a bed for only one person.

Every night, Mitsuru would find herself sitting by her desk and staring at the door, keeping track of the time and waiting with bated breath for the sound of knocking on her door. Sometimes there was nothing. Sometimes it was there. Always, when she heard it, she would stand up while trying hard to suppress the excitement and she would open the door and find a tired-looking Yukari standing on the other side. They would talk and, after the talk had died down, sit in companionable silence. Then Yukari would depart, leaving Mitsuru feeling empty again.

*

It was different, that evening.

Generally, everything felt different. The events that had transpired over the past few weeks were taking their toll, and Mitsuru was losing what little sleep she had, shouldering now more burdens than she had before. Yukari ceased to visit her, and while Mitsuru felt let down by this, she knew she had to try and understand. Everyone was starting to come to terms with the unending revelations revolving around the Shadows and the Dark Hour, and Yukari had better things to do than to nurse her sleeplessness by making casual conversation with Mitsuru.

But it was different that evening.

The unexpected visit came just as the Dark Hour had set in, and it made Mitsuru jump in the darkness of her room. Yukari was on the other side, a sheepish grin on her face as Mitsuru opened the door. She muttered quick apologies. She was ushered in as she was explaining that she was just feeling… down. Something wasn’t right, and she just needed company.

Mitsuru needed company, too.

Yukari sat on the edge of Mitsuru’s bed, the pristine covers crumpling a little under her weight. The bed didn’t look so empty now.

There was no coffee, and for this Mitsuru apologized. There was no hum of the air conditioner, the sound of dogs barking in the distance. No sound of the cats that scampered across rooftops and scavenged garbage cans. There was nothing that felt alive and breathing during the Dark Hour, save for the two of them. The words traded between them were quick, sparse, with the thoughts hanging in the air just waiting to be said out loud.

Mitsuru wanted to say she was lonely. She had been, for a long time. She wanted to ask Yukari to stay the night. But she couldn’t, of course. She didn’t want to impose. Yukari had visited on her own accord. To keep her from what Mitsuru thought was her objective – quiet conversation, pass the time until she could finally sleep – sounded cruel.

“If you don’t mind, senpai, I’d like to sleep here for the night,” Yukari said, and they were the last words Mitsuru expected to hear, but she was nevertheless pleased that it was Yukari herself who elected to stay the night – something which Mitsuru had been wanting for a while now, empty as the room was.

The covers were rumpled, covering the two young ladies who lay on the bed. There was still a lot of bedspace. Both of them were staring up at the ceiling, a respectable distance between them. The distance amplified the feeling in Mitsuru’s heaving chest – the impending aloneness when Yukari leaves again. She was there to stay for the night, but she wasn’t there to stay.

It was cold. Wasn’t it cold?

“Mitsuru-senpai?”

“Yes?”

She turned to Yukari, whose eyes were trained to the ceiling.

“This is a really big bed. Don’t you ever feel lonely sleeping alone here?”

Oh. Well. It was the same question Mitsuru had asked herself over and over, knowing the answer but not the solution. There was no permanent solution. Just quick fixes that always ceased to work once Yukari left the room. Then the pain would get worse.

“I do,” Mitsuru said, her voice only a little more audible than a whisper. “On most nights. Especially when you leave,” she added, though the words weren’t meant to be heard.

Yukari looked at her, a shy smile on her face. “Can I move closer?” The question hung in the hair, voiced only because Yukari saw the look on Mitsuru’s face. Yukari was lonely, too.

“I… of course. It does feel unusually cold tonight.”

Mitsuru trembled, as she felt Yukari’s warm body near her. It felt wonderful, however. The physical contact was absolutely welcome. The closeness was desired, and amazing. Mitsuru felt like something was filling up inside, that some unachieved thing was being fulfilled. The Dark Hour felt, then, like a sanctuary, and Yukari her saviour.

If only for the night.

*

Their sleepovers became more frequent. The size of the room became very pronounced in the morning, but it felt comfortable enough at night, when Yukari was there in her bed, sleeping beside her. Over the course of several evenings, they lay closer together than the night before. It was the desperate call of lonely hearts crying out, looking for someone to hold them, to comfort them. And it was that comfort that kept the both of them within so intimate a distance from each other.

A distance that closed, inch by inch, gradually.

An even greater gap was bridged, as both dared to satisfy an unspoken desire that transcended that of companionship. It always began as a shy question, often from the more forward Yukari.

“Can I hold your hand?” she would whisper, and for the next few evenings of her visits, Mitsuru held on to her hands, without Yukari needing to ask.  The handholding was a regular occurrence, with each exploring the other’s skin (Mitsuru would muse that Yukari’s hands were smooth, despite her regular training with the bow), the one not needing approval from the other because both had, in their own way, mutually agreed to do this.

Handholding under the sheets progressed to more intimate physical activity. Always, it was Yukari who would whisper to Mitsuru to move closer. Always, it was Yukari who asked if she could rest her head on Mitsuru’s chest (the skin separated by the thin layer of nightshirt material Mitsuru was wearing). It was almost as if it was a nightly ritual. Yukari didn’t even go to sleep in her room anymore. Before the Dark Hour set in, she would be knocking on Mitsuru’s door, and the eyes locking with each other were enough to affirm what was about to transpire.

Nothing serious, but then they shared the kind of intimacy proper for lovers’ repose. Everyone knew that Yukari and Mitsuru were close friends, if only brought that way because of the events that had happened over the past few months, but they were testing the boundaries every night, one caress at a time.

They found themselves deeper in each other’s arms, waking up in the morning bodies melded into one, arms wrapped around each other and legs tangled. The contact was always like that, however. And occasionally, while Mitsuru absently played with Yukari’s hair, they would speak in whispers, as if afraid that the world would hear them and see them and break the sacredness that wrapped their communion. They both believed the need to be with each other was brought about by a desire to be understood so the feeling of being alone would diminish, and _they_ were the only people who could understand each other. It was perhaps because of the circumstances that surrounded them, and the large roles their predecessors played in the unleashing of the nightmare. Regardless of what it was, there was something they needed to appease, and one preferred the other to be her companion, anyway.

Lovers’ trysts were less sacred than their evenings with each other. Theirs was holy, untouchable, but the world wouldn’t understand. Two young women in each other’s arms exploring each other’s skin was an activity reserved for those who were socially allowed and publicly accepted to consummate their relationship. The caresses spoke of love, of admiration, and of a fear to break the other like she was a fragile thing, but they weren’t allowed to. Even in the darkness, even when they were alone, the prying eyes of the world would somehow be able to discover the heiress and the popular girl in a precarious position.

Neither was brave enough to risk that, no matter how much the skin burned when a finger left a train, no matter how much air was gasped when a sensitive spot was (accidentally?) touched. And so, always, the nights would end with whispered goodnights and breathing slowing down to a slumber. Always, they touched.

*

On that evening, chilled wine sat on Mitsuru’s desk, flanked by two glasses. Revelations never ceased, and the New Year was filled to bursting with them. Sometimes, a drink was necessary. She was anxious, but excited to drink some wine, hoping that it would be enough to warm the coldness that was spreading inside her. The second glass was reserved for Yukari, if she was going.  Mitsuru only hoped that she would. But she knew there was no reason to be disappointed if ever Yukari stayed in her room for the night. What happened on that day wasn’t exactly something worth celebrating, and each of them in the dorm had the right to mull things over.

The world was ending, besides.

Seconds passed by, then minutes, and the clock crept closer to twelve in the evening. The silence was making Mitsuru nervous. There were no footfalls, no creaking doors. It felt as if the entire dorm had already fallen asleep, or else kept quiet by everything that had happened.

Mitsuru was ready to resign herself to drinking alone, but Yukari knocked. She spoke, asking Mitsuru to let her in, and the door was opened, and she was standing there, dressed in her nightclothes, her eyes red. She had been crying. But the tears and the sad eyes were offset by the smile she wore – perhaps forcibly – on her face.

The desire to comfort Yukari was overwhelming. The closed the door and Mitsuru filled the wine glasses. Yukari sat on the bed and took her share when it was offered. There were no words spoken, only meaningful glances and gazes that met each other. The room was dark, lit only by the dim lights suspended from the ceiling. Trembling fingers wrapped around the cool glass, the rim brought to the lips, the wine sliding down the throat and warming the body.

Mitsuru hoped for conversation, but this was better. All thoughts were suspended, and there was only Yukari and her in the room, knowing that the worst was to come for everyone but not daring to speak a word. Words only made everything real.

The glasses were drained, as was the bottle. And as Mitsuru was replacing the glasses on the table, Yukari looked at her, smiling feebly.

“Can I stay the night?”

“You’re always welcome to.”

“Thank you.”

That was it. The lights turned off on their own accord, as the Dark Hour had finally come for that night, but Mitsuru flicked the switches off regardless. They crawled under the covers and, without any other word spoken, Yukari went to rest her head on the crook of Mitsuru’s shoulder, her breath warm on the skin. Minutes passed by, the only sound their heartbeats and their breathing. Mitsuru’s arms were around Yukari, securing the one’s body to the other in a firm embrace.

One minute. Two.

“Mitsuru?” It was something that went on between them, at least in private. Both were comfortable enough and close enough to each other not to use honorifics. It was another one of the things they were hiding from the world.

“Yukari?”

There was a mirthless laugh. She felt Yukari’s fingers trailing on her stomach, and Yukari’s tears falling fresh on her skin. Yukari’s breathing was hitched, and it occurred to Mitsuru that she was trying to force down all the tears. For the following minutes, there was only the sound of Yukari’s struggle with herself. Then she gently released herself from Mitsuru’s embrace, and crawled on top of her, her face level with Mitsuru’s. Mitsuru’s hands rested on Yukari’s back, and Yukari’s hands on Mitsuru’s shoulders. Mitsuru was a little perplexed, but when Yukari looked down on her, she thought she was starting to understand.

“The world’s going to end, Mitsuru.”

“That’s what Ryoji believes.”

“Can we do it?”

“Hmm?”

“Stop the world from ending?”

“Yukari…”

“I don’t want the world to end. There’s so many things to do,” Yukari said quietly. “So many things left unsaid for everyone. For us.”

It was perhaps that moment that cemented Mitsuru’s thoughts. She needed Yukari, but Yukari needed her just as much. Because there was something between them so new, so wonderful, fragile still but growing strong with every evening that they spent with each other. And though in the past there were nothing but the soft touches of skin, that evening, it was different.

They never dared to, before (though perhaps the desire to do so had already been bubbling in the subconscious), but that evening, Yukari’s lips were on Mitsuru’s, and her tears fell on Mitsuru’s skin. Lips trailed kisses where hands roamed, and heat built up between the two. There was a hunger that seemed insatiable between them, excitement and pleasure mingling with uncertainty and hesitation. Both were inexperienced, and both were nervous, for the first time embarking on something they unwittingly preserved for the other. It was the realization that Yukari wanted Mitsuru, and Mitsuru wanted her, and this fuelled all the more the kisses, the caresses, the desire to explore each other in the way they never had before. In the cover of the evening, all that was between them was realized. Aggressive and gentle, biting and embracing. The culmination of all evening visits, all knocks on the door, all sleepovers and coffee and conversations and companionable silence.

What they held between them was more sacred than love. And perhaps the world’s eyes weren’t privy to it, but if they were, and if they saw the beautiful thing that had bloomed between the two, would Nyx cease to descend? Would the world turn eternally?

Those weren’t questions they thought about when the puzzle pieces started fitting perfectly. Those weren’t questions they thought about when Yukari fell into Mitsuru’s arms, her head resting on her bare chest, their breathing labored and the entire world forgotten. The only thing that mattered between them, that night, was the person they lay with.

The person they, through a long, perhaps complicated and unconventional process, learned to love.

*

Another evening. Another meeting.

“The world’s going to end, Mitsuru.”

“We won’t let it end.”

**Author's Note:**

> A rather long Mitsuru/Yukari, with mention of (non-explicit, non-graphic) sex. I may have also confused part of the timeline, though I hope that it's not jarring. As a general rule, I do not - and cannot satisfactorily - write sex scenes, so perhaps the love scene in here may come off as pretentious, but I hope it produces the effect that I'm trying to drive home.


End file.
